Breakaway: SkywalkerSaga 1
by DawnsJediWind
Summary: R&R! SW,TCW AU. After Ahsoka leaves him a year into the War, the Council assigns another padawan to Anakin. Can he get over his loss to train her? Can she heal him and save him from the Dark Side? Can he love again? Read to find out!
1. Chapter 1

**Declaimer: I own nothing-except for a overly active imagination**_  
_

**Rated: T w/possible M content in later chapters**

**Dedicated To: My wonderful older sister:) **

**A/N: Ehh, there's a lot to say:{ First off; this is the remake of the former _Aggressive Negotiations._ I didn't like the way that story was headed, I loved the _idea_, but the plot was filled with holes, and I absolutely disliked my writing style. To put it simple, I hated it, I hated where it was going and I hated how I wrote it. **

**After taking a break, I decided I had to do something, so, as hard as it is to say, I deleted it. I don't do this often, acutely aware of the fact some people might not like this, and I'm very apologetic to those of you who read and reviewed it. I hope you understand, and forgive me enough to read the story that replaced it. **

**Okay, so, Second off; this is the replacement. Almost completely different, but with the same idea behind it. This is a AU set during the Clone Wars, however... The Time and Age frame is off. It is roughly one year into the War, Anakin is about 25-26 years old, and him and his Padawan have been together for about three years. _She_(Spoiler) is about twenty. **

**This is also the prequel to another story of mine here, _In Jabba's Palace: A Jedi and a Slave-Girl. _If you're interested, please hop over there and take a look (don't forget to drop a review!), though be warned, some Spoiler Alart. **

**Please Read and Review! I can barely write without knowing someone, somewhere, is enjoy my work. You are awesome, and the best support team a writer could ask for, sometimes I just want to hug you:)**

**EnJoy! May the Force always be with you! **

**{DJWind}**

_**"...If I could breakaway, **_

_**cut the cord, for worst or better. **_

_**If I could turn the page, **_

_**at last and say goodbye forever. **_

_**But on the other side of yesterday, **_

_**behind the heartache. **_

_**What if all I am, without the pain,**_

_**is empty heartened? **_

_**I could breakaway..." (**_**_Breakaway_, Celine Dion)  
**

Prologue

_They stood, expectantly, waiting for her and the response she give. Anakin held his breath, his heart throbbing to a slower bent. He suddenly felt faint and weak, oh so weak, as he prevented himself to breath until he knew, until he heard her answer, until he knew if she was going to stay or not. _

"They're asking you back, Ahsoka," he stepped forward, unable to bare the silence the pursed into him like a heavy weight, he had to shatter it, to hear something other than what the Force was telling him to believe. "_I'm _asking you back," he opened up his hand, exposing the beaded chain that indicted her a Padawan of the Jedi Order. He looked at her, eyes searching for the answer he felt her reluctant to give. His throat tightened, and his mouth dried as he tried unsuccessfully to ignore the Force probing at him, pushing him to face the truth. He refused to believe, it was just...too painful.

Ahsoka looked at him, then at the chain in his hand, she closed her eyes, trying to waylay the mister that threatened to spill into her eyes and run down her cheeks. "I-I'm sorry, Master," She took his figures and covered the chain, "but, I'm not coming back." She turned away, closing her eyes against the stabbing pain that cut her heart like no knife could, and walked away, away from the Council and away from her Master.

Anakin stood there a moment, the chain still in his hands, his figures clutching it like it was a life-saver, the only thing that prevented him from drowning in the sea of swirling emotions that suddenly crashed over him in overlapping waves. The other Council members looked out after Ahsoka, excepting the fact that the Jedi Order was not this Padawan's destiny. Only Yoda bowed his head in grief as piecing sorrow flooding through the Force from young Skywalker. He closed his eyes as the angst grow, and lead upon his stick for support and comfort of something familiar. The old Master lifted his sad gaze as he felt a shift in Anakin, and watched him leave the chamber, intent to retrieve and reason with Ahsoka, then cased his eyes down, sensing it would be unless, she was already gone, lost to them forever.

"Ahsoka, wait!" Anakin called after her, running down the stairs of the Temple as if his life depended upon this moment, which in truth it did. "Ahsoka, I need to talk to you!" He did not slow his pace until he had caught up with her. She stopped, but hastened to turn around to face him, feeling his grief and angst at her decision, but she had thought long and hard about this for many days, especially as she faced the murder trials. She knew she had made the right decision, however hard it pained her to make it.

"Why…are you doing this?" Anakin cried, feeling his heart breaking, realizing that she was already lost to him.

Ahsoka turned to him, face shrouded with sorrow, eyes blinking back tears. "The Council didn't trust me," she explained, "so how can I trust myself?"

"What about me?" Anakin tried to argue with her, but his heart was not in his words, it was fluttering, barely about to pump the blood through his veins, breaking into tiny pieces, a piece of glass shattered by a blaster blow. "I believed in you. I trusted you, I stood by you!"

"I—know you believe in me, Anakin, and I'm grateful for that, but…this isn't about you. I can't stay here any longer, not now." There was just too many things Ahsoka had fond she could not believe in the Order and Code. The Council were wrong in so many ways, on so many levels, she just couldn't stay there any longer. They were too skeptical of new ways, of new thoughts, they were doubtful of so many things. She found she know longer knew them in the way she thought, she could no longer trust their fading wisdom. She had to leave, live her life the way she wanted, even if that meant going far, far away.

"The Jedi Order is your life!" Anakin tried one last attempt to reason with her, to bring her back to him. "You can't just throw it away like this! Ahsoka, you are making a trouble mistake!"

"Maybe…" Ahsoka was still uncertain, but she trusted in the Force and what it was telling her, she had to to live. "But I have to sort this out on my own, without the Council…and without you." She turned away, unable to bare seeing the look of deep hurt on his dejected face.

Anakin turned away from her, incapable of seeing her any more, it was…just too painful for him. They had gone through too much not to make this parting, this farewell, without feeling it. They had gone through so much together, he had finally began to think they would always and completely be together, not just as friends, but as something more, deeper.

"I understand," his voice was heavy and edged with grief, he was utter unable to keep the sorrow from it. "More than you realize, I understand wanting to walk away from the Order…from this War."

"I know," and his eyes widened as he realize that she knew, she knew and understand all those feelings he had kept from her, hiding behind the mask of the Master. He turned to look at her, the sorrow particularly replaced by surprise. She turned and their eyes met, both filled with passion and pain as they finally comprehended the truth. They both felt it, their hearts bent the some tone for one brief moment. Ahsoka reached out, cupped his cheek, and stood on the tips of her toes as she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his in a tender kiss. It was too much for Anakin, and he sobbed into her mouth, the tears rushing out in a sea of emotion. She broke the kiss, and turned away, letting her hand fall from him. She walked away, descended the stairs down from the Temple, down from him into the fading sunset.

She did not look back.

Anakin watched her go, tears following freely, ashamed down his cheeks, dapping the collar of his tunic. His felt his heart break in two with a final _crack_, and a deep aching felled his soul. He collapsed to the stones, burying his face in his hands, and sobbed, bitterly crying for a rescue that would not come. He was drowning in an ocean of grief and agony, and there was absolutely no one to dive in after him, bring him back to the surface to breath again, to live again.

Anakin had loved Ahsoka, as much as a man can a woman. They had been through so much, seen and done so much in the past three years, it was extremely hard for him not to. At first it had been a simple, unashamed admiration, but that feeling had gradually evolved into something deeper, more profound, until he realized that he cared about her, more then he even cared about himself. He would've died for her freely and without hastening if the situation called for it. But now… He had nothing else to live for, no one that would make life livable for him every again. Anakin was ready to die and become one with the Force, he no longer cared.

* * *

"I'm worried, Master," Obi-wan confessed, his voice low and concerned. "I'm worried about Anakin. He hasn't said a word since Ahsoka left. He's barely left his room, and hasn't eating anything."

"Hurt, he is," said Master Yoda, joining the other Jedi to look out over the city from the Council Chamber above. "A broken heart he has. Deep the wound is, and long it will take to heal."

"Is they anything we can do?" Obi-wan asked. "I don't like this, Master Yoda."

"Nor should you. This is one thing only that could help him. Another Padawan he should take."

Obi-wan turned, and looked down at the Grand Master, surprised that he would even dare mention a thing, especially for Anakin. It was true many Jedi Master took on another Padawan soon after the other past the trials and were knighted, it prevented any further attachments to the past.

"I—don't think Anakin is ready," said Obi-wan, voicing his thoughts aloud.

"Ready, he never was and will never be," assured Yoda. "But need this, he does. There is one particular youngling that is ready for a Master. Long, I have watched her. Good, she will be for Anakin. Heal him, I sense."

"I hope you're right," Obi-wan tried to prevent the doubt from slipping into his voice, but Master Yoda sensed it nonetheless and smiled slyly.

"Sense a great change about to come, I do," he observed wryly. "Yes, a great change…of many things."

* * *

Anakin walked slowly, uncertainly down the corridor towards the tubo lift to the Council Chamber high above the majority of the Temple. He wearily rubbed his eyes of sleep and tears, his shoulders shagging as his hand fell back to his side. He did not every bother considering to straighten his appearance or rumbled robes, he was too tired and his heart was too heavy, he just didn't really care anymore, not after Ahsoka left him. It had been two miserable days spent in utter agonizing hell. He had shut himself up in his room, away from all Jedi, and simply wept, pouring his grief out loud sobs. The tears had long left him, replaced by a sense of loneliness and failure that did not leave him.

"Skywalker," Master Mace Windu greeted him quietly as he stepped out of the lift into the certain of the Chamber. What other members of the Council could attend acknowledged his presences with courteous nods of the head. Yoda observed him with sad eyes while Obi-wan studied him keenly under a curious gaze.

"Masters," Anakin's voice was low and heavy with grief. He did not bow to their presences, but stood, erect, awaiting their judgment.

"Mourning you have been," said Yoda. It was not a question, but a quiet observation of expectation.

Anakin nodded, and let his eyes fall to the carpeted floor of the Chamber; he was too tired and too hurt to contradict the elder Jedi.

"Weary, you are, and heavy of heart," Yoda continued to observe him.

"Yes, Master," Anakin felt he should say something to assure them that he was still among them listening.

"A request we have for you, young Skywalker," said Yoda at length. "A new Padawan I have for you to take—"

"No! I'm not taking another Padawan, Master!" Anakin lasted quickly out, his decision set in stone. He did not want to fail again, and he knew he would if he took another apprentice under his shadow.

"This is for your own good, Anakin," said Obi-wan gently.

"I'm not going to take another Padawan, Master," Anakin turned his eyes on his owe former master, his eyes smothering with tears and anger. "I'm not going to fail again."

"Blame Ahsoka's decision to leave the Order on yourself?" said Yoda softly, eyeing him under heavy brows.

Anakin did not reply, but hung his head, never feeling more dejected and alone than ever before.

"It was not your fault, Anakin—" Obi-wan begun to assure him.

"No! It was all of our faults! If the Council hadn't doubted her word to begin with, she would still be my Padawan."

"And right you are," said Yoda sadly. "At fault our wisdom is, I'm afraid. But gone she is, and it is the will of the Force, I believe. Take this Padawan you will."

"I-I—" Anakin stammered in dismay, trying to sway their decision.

"Take her you will," said Yoda, his voice preventing any further arguments, "Old, she is, and many Jedi will not continue her training because of it. You will."

"She is Padmé Naberrie," Windu informed the young Jedi. "She is the Senator Representative for the Jedi Order. She begun her training at three, but has been unable to continue it regularly due to her interest in the political field. You will take her and train her until she is able to past the trials. Master Kenobi will take you to her. You will stay with her at her private apartment, as her teacher and protector, until called upon."

"Yes, Master," Anakin bowed his head, and turned to leave, incapable of saying any more for they were no words for him to say. They had proclaimed his doom to failure, and he had no choice in the matter but to accept it to the best of his abilities. He wondered about Ahsoka; maybe she had been right to leave the Jed Order, maybe he could follow her, find her wherever she had gone, and they could live happily together, away from war, away from the Council, at peace and alone. But he suddenly sensed such a path was not the will of the Force. But what was the will of the Force? Anakin had a sudden, strange feeling his destiny was tied up with this Padmé he was soon to meet.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm sorry for the wait, but inspiration has been slow to coming until now. **

**For those of you curious to know what the _SkywalkerSagas _are, they are a series of about three stories set in an Alternative Universe where some things happen, and others don't to get our favorite couples together and change galactic history forever. _Breakaway_ is the 1st, _Resolution_ is the 2th, and the 3th is still being formed, but will circled around the events of the Vong War and the youngest Skywalker generation. **

**EnJoy! And as always, R&R, I'd love to read your thoughts!:) **

**{DJWind}**

**1**

_A tall black beast, or man—it was hard for him to tell which—strode determinedly through the turbo-lift doors and down an open air corridor. He was clad all in thick black armor, a black velvet cloak bellowing out behind him. A polished black helmet and mask concealed his face, his breathing coming in loud rasps through the respirator that kept him alive. On his hip bounced a black-handled lightsaber that swung back and forth with the movement of his walking. He came to the end of the corridor where doors to yet another turbo-lift opened up to reveal to an older grey-clad man and young black clothed in black, several Clone Stormtoopers behind them with weapons at the ready. _

_ The older man step forward to meet the black beast. "This is the Rebel who surrendered to us," he reported dutifully, "although he denies it, I believe they may be more of them, and I request permission to conduct a further search of the area. He was armed only with this," the officer handed the beast a familiar object, Anakin's own lightsaber._

_ As the others drifted away into the midst of the dream, the black beast and young man begun to walk side by side slowly down the length of the open corridor. The man was young—about Anakin's own age, and of medium height and build; his hair honey-blonde, darkening with age, eyes of bright and crystal clear blue. Eyes that forced the dreamer's attention more thoroughly upon him. There was something about this particular man, an air of nobility and naivety the likes of which he'd never met before. His heart seemed good and kind, but not pure of the fealties of life, he seemed to have suffered much, and grown in wisdom and mercy because of it. He walked with the black beast now, head held up high, jaw arched in a determined line that seemed oh so familiar…._

Anakin drifted awake, surprised to find himself waking with such calm and assurance he'd not felt in days after Ahsoka's trials and departure. For days, he had confined himself to his small sleeping chamber, crying, sleeping fitfully, and venting out his angry and frustration at the Council by throwing anything breakable at the walls accordingly. He was angry at the Council, at Plo Koon, at Yoda, but most of all, at himself. He had failed, failed her as a teacher, failed her as friend.

Anakin rubbed the sleep from his heavy eyes, suddenly feeling like he hadn't rested in nights though he'd slept after he'd sobbed his heart out. It ached—it would always ache—a gentle throb that pierced him deeper and deeper each time it bent. He took a deep, shaky breath, and stood from his rumpled bed. He stumbled through the debris of twisted metal and shattered glass that scattered the floor to the nearby window, and looked it. It was far into the day, noon by all appearance, the Temple's daily life well in advance. The young Jedi rubbed his chin, frowning as his callused fingers brushed against newly sprouted whiskers. He turned from the shaded window, and reached for his robes that lay crumpled on the floor, wrapping them crudely about him, and decided he would risk abounding the broken comfort of his bedroom and search for something better to eat and drink than rationbars and water.

Fortunately the corridor outside was empty of all occupants, and Anakin made his way stealthily and quickly to the Temple cafeteria, peering around the door's corner to see if it too was empty of everyone. A few younglings, sneaking away from their afternoon classics, gathered at one table absorbed in their mischief. The Jedi entered the cafeteria, shading his presence from all, then into the empty kitchen where he quickly found what he sought. Gather up the bowl of cereal and glass of bantha blue milk, he made ready to leave and return to his chambers when a clearing voice startled him, and he momentarily let go of his future breakfast. Before either of them could reach out with the Force and captive the dishes, they fell to the floor and broke all over the broads with a sharp _crash _and _clatter. _

"Tut-tut," said the interrupter in an all too familiar tone. "You should really pay better attention than that, Anakin." Obi-wan looked at him under heavily furrowed brows, but there was no hint of annoyance either in voice or face, but profound sadness and concern.

Anakin stood back, leaning wearily up against the counter and looking down at the remains of his breakfast all over the kitchen floor. "What do you want, Master?" he asked, sensing the other Jedi would hadn't arrived for any ideal reason.

Obi-wan approached him, carefully picking his way through the streaming mess. "Anakin, _where_ have you been?" His voice was weighed and manured, never a good indication from the younger Jedi's experience.

"Here," Anakin replied flatly, crossing both arms and legs.

"The Council assigned you your new apprentice _two days_ again, and yet you've done absolutely nothing to do with her. Why is that?" Obi-wan raised an eyebrow, demanding an answer from the younger man.

"Do I have to get a reason?" Anakin's mood had dramatically soured, and it was reflected in his voice.

Obi-wan rubbed his temples from an impending headache. "I know this is hard for you, Anakin, but it is for the best," he tried to reason diplomatically.

Anakin started up from the counter, angry and annoyed, and lashed out at his old master fiercely, "If I hear one more person say that, they'll be hell to pay! I didn't ask for this. I _don't_ want her! Why can't you understand that? I'll fail like I failed Ahsoka."

Obi-wan sighed, "It's not your choice, _Anakin!_ It's the Council's. Do you have the nerve to question and go against the Jedi Council?!"

"I'd certainly like to!"

"And do you know what you'll be doing to Padmé if you do?" Obi-wan went on, his blue eyes flashing, though his face remained expressionless. "You'll be destroying her chance of becoming a Jedi. You'll taking away the opportunity for her to be trained and become part of this Order. This isn't only about you, Anakin Skywalker!"

Anakin looked hard at the older Jedi, his eyes flashing with cold fire, though his heart reluctantly found truth in Obi-wan's words that he couldn't deny. They stared hard at each other, both unwilling to back down even for a millisecond of time, blue met blue, young against the old. Obi-wan perched his lips in a ever deepening frown and crossed his arms over his chest, standing back and setting the storm that was Anakin out. Anakin glared deadly at him, and almost—for a split second, the older Jedi swore he saw pure, bright yellow sprung up to envelop the blue, then the hate subsided, and the Jedi turned away and marched out of the kitchen with stubborn, angry steps.

_If you're so inclined to ruin me, _Anakin's bitter voice came through the Force and lashed out at Obi-wan, _Tell me where I can find this Padmé,_ Master_!_ He said the finally word with as much scorn and coldness as he could possibly achieve. Obi-wan winched at the young man's resentful tone, and closed his eyes as he took several breaths to steady his suddenly shaking nerves. He had caught something in Anakin's face, in his voice and body language that cased his normal composer and understanding to be suddenly shaking into oblivion, that cased the Jedi Master to suddenly become afraid. For a moment, he didn't see Anakin as he was but as he felt he would become. A monster clad all in black with yellowy-red eyes that burned with an engulfing fire. A man who lived only for hate and death, and bittersweet revenge; a soulless man with a stone heart, moved by nothing but his own greed for more all-consuming power. Obi-wan stumbled to the counter, hands reaching blindly for something to held him upright as his own keens had weakened extremely. He closed his eyes as a sea of voices and images passed before him, and his heart throbbed painfully in his chest, too slow yet too fast at the same moment.

"What have we done?" He murmured sorrowfully as he began to wonder just what was really going on not only to Anakin, but to the Jedi Order itself and the whole Galaxy.

_What have we done?_

* * *

The Senator Representative of the aged Jedi Order looked down at the assembly of Galactic Senators from every known and occupied planet. She wore a gown of dark purplely-blue, her rich brown hair down up in a winged style that framed her fair face. Her keen brown eyes glanced at her companion, the Viceroy of Alderaan, Bail Organa, a tall man of dark complexion and hair, and deep wisdom and understanding. He caught her wondering eye, the frown displayed upon his face deepening profoundly as they listened to the heated debate swirling around the Convocation Chamber.

At last, thoroughly disgusted with the turn of affairs, Padmé Naberrie of Naboo turned away and retreated from the Chamber, closely followed by Organa and a silent, hooded handmaiden.

"This shouldn't have happened!" she vented out as they strode down the assembly corridors back to her Senate office. "Why does Chancellor Palpatine insist to continue funding this war? I don't understand it."

"There is much we don't understand," Bail replied slowly. "Even more so, I fear, concerning the Chancellor."

Padmé glanced at him keenly, curiously to know what he meant by his words.

Sensing her desire for him to explain, the Viceroy moved closer to her and quietly went on, "I fear the Chancellor has gained too much power around the Senator. He's been Chancellor for too long—twelve years now. It-it just don't seem right, and I'm not comfortable with it."

They entered Padmé office, the door hissing behind them, and Padmé drifted gracefully to the nearby windows that gave a stunning view of that sector of the city-planet where only the wealth celebrities and senators dwelt. She crossed her hands before her, a troubled expression coming to her distant eyes, and sighed.

"I'm afraid you're right, Bail," she finally confused. "There are many questions to this war that can't be explained."

Bail strode across the carpeted floor to join her. "What are we going to do then?"

"Nothing…for now," Padmé answered quietly. "There are so few Senators to support us, I'm afraid any move we make may be fatal. No, we must wait."

"I don't like this," Bail murmured under his breath, but the petite woman beside him had heard, and laid a reassuring hand upon his arm, looking up at him with earnest brown eyes.

"You must trust me, Bail," said Padmé, "and you must trust the Force—as Master Yoda would say "_The future is always in motion"_." She let her hand fall from his arm, and looked back out of the window, "I must go now. I'm meeting Master Kenobi at my apartment in an hour."

Bail nodded, and bowed his head politely before her, saying, "I will leave you now, Senator Naberrie. It was good to see you again."

"Likewise," said Padmé, and she watched the older man retreat from the office long after the doors hissed shut, her eyes seeing without really recognizing. She sighed, and glanced once again through the wall of open windows, finally resting on the five speared towers of the Jedi Temple. From its midst, she suddenly felt a flood of angry, quickly replaced by profound grief and a sense of aboundedment she'd never expected before. Though she was not naturally deeply a-tuned within the follow of the Force, these emotions were too strong for them not to be felt by those nearest. She physically withdraw from the Force, and stumbled to set at her desk. Sighed again, she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes against the sharp pain that assailed her through the Force; she produced it was going to be a very long afternoon.

* * *

"Patience, Anakin," Obi-wan quietly advised as the young Jedi shifted his weight to one leg and tugged down his tunic, smoothing out invisible wrinkles yet again for the ninth in the last minute. He adjusted his heavy utility belt, making absolute certainty that his lightsaber on his hip was in place, and squared his shoulders, the feel of the heavy brown cloak over them almost unbearable. Anakin ran a hand irribaly through his hair, shaggy with oil, then glanced down at his mechanical hand and adjusted the black glove protecting it. He'd lost his physical and original one nearly a year ago at the Battle of Geonosis that sparked the beginning of the Clone Wars. It had taken him many months to heal and get used to, even now he sometimes had difficulty doing simple tasks like write or eat with that particular hand. To say that he was now an expert on using his left hand was an understatement. A thick, black leather and padded glove was worn over the nerve wirings at almost all times, making it feel far heavier and cumbersome than otherwise.

Anakin shifted his weight yet again, casing a sigh to escape the older Jedi close beside him. He turned and glanced sharply at Obi-wan, the mood intensifying between them. He'd not been too pleased when his old Master had offered to tag along with him, then mishap earlier still unforgotten or unforgiving, but he had not objected, too tired to care or argue. They were now in the turbo-lift being taken up to the topmost apartment of 500 Republica, where they would meet the Senator and Anakin's newly appointed apprentice. He was far from looking forward to the encounter, but he begrudgingly excepted his fate, having not the present nerve to fight against the deciduous of the Council. He knew very little about his future apprentice apart from what Windu had told at their last meeting.

He sighed, annoyed at his naïvety; he couldn't wait for his curiosity to be quenched with reality, thus he could barely stand still for a second before moving _some_ part of him. Strange, he never remembered feeling this anxious with Ahsoka had been assigned to him. But then again, she was undoubtedly very different from this Jedi Senator.

"Relax, Anakin," Obi-wan sighed again. Both of them knew extremely well Anakin would never relax for a millisecond of his life.

_I have a bed feeling about this,_ Anakin privately thought, not wasting the breath to reply grumpily at his master. He glanced over his shoulder to look out the lift's back wall window, his eyes looking out over the passing scenery as they sped higher up the apartment complex; he had to confess, the view was incredibly beautiful from this height, perhaps he just might be able to get use to it after all. After studying the looming skyscrapers, his eyes resting briefly on the round doom that marked the Senate Building, then he let them drift away.

The lift came to a sudden stop, and the doors slid silently open.

Anakin strode across the threshold, a determined air about him as he marched into the sparsely decorated apartment. It was fashionable and airy, but not too elegant and luxurious, with clean round lines and contrasting colors of cream and sky blue, the floors covered with indoor-outdoor carpeting of the same quality. The Jedi were met by a tall man of dark complexion and black hair, a black eye-patch over one eye, and petite slender handmaiden hooded in gray velvet. They motioned Anakin further inside to the living room of the apartment where the Senator sat. Upon see the his approach, she rose, and Anakin turned his heated glance fully upon her for the very first.

She was one the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

And in a flash off his pent-up anger and frustration dropped from his shoulders.

They stared at each other, thoroughly surveying the other.

Since the first time she had felt the approaching Jedi, Padmé had sensed Anakin's boiling, yet hidden anger, and had carefully concealed her own presence from him. She sensed that he'd been in a dangerously irritable mood, the root case of which she didn't know or understand. She had physically and mental braced herself for their confirmation, and had paled slightly upon seeing him enter the room so boldly; brown-black robs flopping behind him, eyes flashing with cool fire. But, he'd suddenly stopped before her, and all those rolling emotion had disappeared as soon as she had risen to greet him.

"Master Skywalker," Padmé acknowledged him with a nod of the head, her eyes sparkling curiously at him, before turning to the other Jedi who'd join them. "Master Kenobi."

"Padawan Padmé," Obi-wan spoke first. "It's good to see you again. I take it you are well?"

"Very," but Padmé frowned slightly, recalling the easily events of the day. She sat back down upon the sofa, motioning the Jedi to join her.

"I sense you're greatly disturbed, young one," Obi-wan said sadly, worry fused within his eyes, as he sat down in turn.

Padmé sighed, "The Chancellor has agreed to continue funding the army. This war is stretching for longer than I wanted."

Obi-wan nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, but Anakin suddenly interrupted, and said softly, "That's not all, is there?" He looked up at Padmé, his formerly harden eyes softening almost affectionately at her.

"Yes," Padmé shifted slightly on her cushion, feeling suddenly very uneasy under the young Jedi's glance. "But—I have no desire to broaden you with my concerns," she looked quickly away from Anakin to the older Jedi of the three. "You must be very busy, Master Kenobi, you mustn't stay here longer than necessary."

"No, I shouldn't," Obi-wan smiled and stood. "Good-by, you know where to find me if you need me," he turned to Anakin who had risen as well, "Your things well be brought here as soon as possible." Without another word, Obi-wan turned away and left them alone together.

As soon as the turbo-life doors closed behind the Jedi, Padmé turned back to Anakin, and said courteously, "I'm very grateful for you for excepting me."

Anakin simple struggled, having not the heart to tell her the truth that he'd no choice in the matter. But he had the strange sensation that she sense some of the truth, but she said nothing more on the subject.

"It's been very hard for me," Padmé continued. "So few Masters desire to train an 'old' apprentice."

Anakin scowled deeply, disliking this more and more, but glancing back up at Padmé before him, his disdain and unease left him, and the sense of calm and warmth the beautiful angel brought flooding over his. His scowl suddenly turned to a full-fledged smile, one that brightened his distraught eyes and softened his scarred face.

"I will train you as well as I can," Anakin promised.

Padmé's eyes glanced at him, and she smiled, "I'm sure you will, Master Skywalker—"

"Anakin," he protested, "please call me—Anakin."

"—Anakin," she finished softly, and his heart fluttered almost a stop, his throat tightening for a reason he couldn't explain. The pure way she said his name made him sound so…_so_ special, loved almost, he thought. Anakin blushed again, and lowered his eyes bashfully, like he was given a compliment he had expected and didn't know quite want to do with it.

"Do you want to see the rest of the apartment?" Padmé asked.

Anakin looked up and nodded, "Yes, I would."

And with soft smile, the young woman lead the young Jedi away through the apartment, describing its every facture though Anakin wasn't really listen as his found he could only look at her and do or hear nothing else.


End file.
